Crossroad in time
by xxvioletfirexx
Summary: bad a summaries something big is happening in the divine realms, and only one insignificant orphan child can help... please R&R, my first ever fanfic!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nobody you recognise, except Cel(esté).  
  
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Prologue  
  
The crescent moon cast an eerie glow on the forest clearing, the air unusually cool for July, and the silence so thick it could have been cut with a knife, save the comforting whisper of the cricket-song.  
It was all silver. Tall trunks rose from grass so silvered by the moonlight that it glimmered like water. The canopy was not thickly covered; patches of light beamed down onto the glade, shimmering like fine silver dust. An ebony sky held white, glittering stars, watching the twilight evening. Silver branches and silver trees loomed over the clearing, as if anticipating some thing long prophesised and significant. It was all quite still, enchanted somehow. There was life among the trees, although life that did not move. There was a silver tawny owl in the boughs, and silver rabbits sleeping in the undergrowth of the forest.  
In the centre of the clearing, however, was a small silver statue, shadowed ivy growing around the base, though the top remained quite untouched. It was the image of a woman, the most beautiful woman one could imagine. Long braids fell in front of her face, and disappeared under a hood, appearing lighter than a feather. Between slanted eyes, was set a perfect diamond, reflecting the moonlight slightly too much, creating the impression that the jewel had light of it's own. The woman's face, though smiling, showed sadness, grief, regret. Her cloaked dress supported many folds, and in long, elegant fingers the statue held a small stone basin. The ivy had almost reached the rim, but in it held the clearest water, water glittering in the light of the Twilight evening.  
The statue was the image of the Great Mother Goddess, the mother of mountains and mares. And tonight was Beltane, the sacred night that the barrier between the realms of the gods and the mortal realms could be broken. And great things had been prophesised to happen that midsummer night.  
Dancing in the shelter of the trees, a great shimmering shadow crept around the edges of the clearing. Without form or shape, she slid into the light. She was one of the great shadows, not reflecting light but absorbing it, making her in full sunlight, invisible. She hid in shadows, but in her current state could only be seen clearly in full darkness. Slowly, carefully, she whispered sacred words, her voice soft and husky on the cool air. The mist around her glimmered silver, and gave way to form a figure, an unnaturally tall figure, cloaked and hooded, large wings folded against her back. Long legs extended to reveal heeled shoes, and stepped softly onto the silver grass, creating little sound but the soft rustle of clothes, and the thin, whispery chants coming from a face darkened by a huge hood, revealing nothing but a white chin and full lips. Her wings, large even in their folded state, were dragon-like, black, and supported razor-sharp silver spikes on the top of the glossy black bones giving form to the wings.  
She went into the centre of the clearing in an odd floating gait. When she reached the statue of the mother, she knelt, spreading out her wings, lowering them to the floor. Out of her cloak she drew a glass pitcher, full of water. Extending long arms, she tipped out the water, the crystal clear liquid splashing in a thin stream into the stone basin. The water shone brightly in the moonlight. The shadow creature bowed her head in a silent tribute, still chanting. The trees groaned, talking to each other, and the wind whispered softly around the clearing.  
A crow, black head cocked to one side observed this intently, sat in the branch, soft head feathers fluffing up in the breeze. He extended black wings, highlighted with emerald and sapphire tones, and carried the draft to land softly on the clearing. As the great shadowed woman began to stand, the crow melted and grew in a blaze of deep blue-black light to reveal a man.  
He, too was impossibly tall, but bore no cloak, and had no wings. His hair was a dark brown, and flopped in front of bright green eyes. His nose was strong, as if it had met a few hard objects more than once, and had a white scar over the left side. His chin was also strong, dark brows shadowed his face. He shouldn't have been attractive, but something in his aura radiated a strong masculine glow. He looked concerned but calm looking. He wore thief's black, a three cornered tear down one side of a black leather jacket. He walked silently, like he wasn't there at all.  
When the shadow woman was standing, the Thief stopped by her right shoulder.  
"It is time." He said quietly, although the deep voice echoed through the forest.  
"Yes." the woman said, slowly drawing back her hood. He had made her jump when he spoke." The child will find her way. She is one of ours. It will be – surprising If her mother should live." Her voice was soft, though it had the power of a thousand wolves' song.  
"There is so much resting on her – and you, sister." As she turned round, she showed her face for the first time. A milky complexion supported dark eyes, which were a haunting shade of deep purple, with black slits for pupils. Two small crystals were in piercings, one below her lips, and one at the left side of her nose, which resembled her brother's. When the dark lady smiled, she showed rows of sharp, white teeth.  
" I know there is. This is what I was put in this existence to do. And by our mother, I will do It." and with that, she changed into a black winged horse and fled into the night's sky, leaving the Thief – god to his self.  
"It's that which worries me, Celesté." He sighed, and flew off in the other direction as the black crow he had appeared as. They were gods. They had the blessing of power, but the curse of knowledge.  
  
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FOOT NOTE: So, how do you like it? I've left it totally open, so please give me some motivation by reviewing. Should I go on? Or should I give up writing forever? Luv ya forever if you do. Cheers, xxvioletfirexx 


	2. Isabel Baker

Disclaimer: I own nothing unless you don't recognise it. I think I own most of this chapter.  
  
14 years later  
  
(Set just around SotL)  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Her mousy brown hair flopped over lowered lashes, causing her to appear shy and reserved. She was, however, quite the opposite, in fact a little rude. Maybe it was that that had prevented her form getting work, having gone through every inn, way house, stable, merchant, etc.(it didn't matter to her what she did, she had to do something.) And maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was the fact that she was an orphan, a whore's daughter, and a bastard. She really had no idea who her parents were, and if she did have some distant relations called 'Baker'. Often she had sat as a little girl, under the stars wondering if she really were a princess from a far away land, and her parents were searching for her... come to think about it, Baker didn't seem a very noble name, and she probably was the daughter of a whore. That was what she had always been told, and that was what she believed. And if people didn't respect her for who she was, but what she was, then that was her problem.  
The thing was, Isabel Baker had never been respected. Maybe it was the fact that she was a whore's bastard, but nobody had ever explained to the girl in all her 14 years why mothers forbade their children to play with, or even go near her, why the children didn't want to. Isabel had accepted that she was just different, and had found happiness in other ways.  
And anyway, Isabel was wicked. In everything she did, she did it wrong. She was scolded, she was worthless, she was sullen, disagreeable, she was deceitful. That was who Isabel Baker was. That was who Isabel Baker was told she was. And that was who Isabel Baker believed herself to be.  
With a sigh, she pushed herself up off the bench, and saddled a strawberry roan Mare, who was tied o a rail, eating grass. The horse was a little large for such a small girl, but the horse, which Isabel had named Skye, was the girl's only friend, and she and the mare trusted each other well enough to work together in harmony. Skye had not managed to throw Isabel in years, and the last time she had, it had been an accident. Setting Skye into a run, Isabel and set along the cobbled path along the beach to the place that she was made to call home.  
In the distance, through squinting green eyes, Isabel thought she could see in the distance a large group of four or five figures slumped against the city gates. Isabel immediately drew Skye down a small path, directly onto the beach. She would bet everything she owned those people would not smile sweetly and let her pass. They were probably robbers of some kind, and unless you could strike down 5 on your own, or for some reason they would let you pass, they would take your money and anything else of worth. Checking she had her 4 knives on her, she led Skye into a cautious trot, hoping they wouldn't see her. Isabel considered herself to fight well enough with a few knives, but these men were about three times the size of her.  
If things were different, Isabel would probably be a member of the rogue now. But things weren't different. All her life she had been told that she had bad blood, there was no hope for her, she would probably turn out like her good for nothing parents. So Isabel had subconsciously promised herself that she would never turn out like them. Never.  
As she got back onto the main streets, and turned into the familiar Sights and smells of the city. The market was packing up for the evening, and the sellers were calling out last minute bargains to get rid of most of their stock. The shopkeepers were sweeping up, and locking their doors. Horse traders were tying up their livestock. As Isabel walked through a jewellery stall, a Bazhir trader yelled something at her in a strong southern accent. She guessed that he wanted to buy Skye.  
"No, sorry, she ain't fer sale, sir."  
Turning into a small inn, she hit the door three times. The porter's door opened and a gruff man grunted at her. The gate swung open, and Isabel trotted in. the new stable-boy Sam, took Skye with a sneer, and the children playing in the courtyard went quiet as Isabel walked past. She was used to such treatment. She was bad, after all.  
Unlocking the front door quietly, she sneaked up the stairs, gritting her teeth in a silent prayer to Mithros that the landlady wouldn't hear her. Walking into a small room, she flopped down into a hammock. This room was her refuge. It was painted in a sort of pale pink shade; wallpaper slightly peeling at the edges. There was a small window, a tiny set of drawers, a bedside table next to the hammock, and a desk, all mahogany brown. On the bedside table was a candle stick holding a half used candle, a worn book with a ragged bookmark thrust in the centre, and a pair of leather gloves that Isabel had dumped there in the morning, and then wished that she had bought them along with her; her hands were numb from the bitter cold, and Skye's reins had not helped.  
On the mantelpiece of the window, was an odd-looking jewellery box. Inside, were a few odd pieces of jewellery, for Isabel loved it. She wore a silver bracelet with a seahorse charm on it, always. She had wondered if her mother had given it to her as a child, possibly before she had abandoned her by the inn door, but how could a common prostitute have afforded this fortune in silver? It had occurred to Isabel that it would fetch a high price, but she couldn't bear the thought of parting with it. It was the only identity she had, for on the inside, carved in exquisite writing, it bore the words: loved Isabel. The knowledge that there was someone out there thinking of her gave Isabel a moral strength, even when she felt that nobody could ever possibly love her.  
She paused with this thought for a while, smiling to herself softly. As if a bomb had exploded in her she jumped up. The Blacksmith was coming today to fit Skye with new shoes today! All hell would break loose if she forgot that! Great, she thought. Yet another reason to call me a worthless wretch. A forgetful, careless worthless wretch. With a sigh she stalked out of her room, slamming the door. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
--------------------------- foot note: depressing, I know. I've been reading Jane Eyre. Ah well, you get a big stuffed animal if you review. Cheers, xxvioletfirexx 


	3. Untitled how ironic

Disclaimer: it's all mine... mine...mwahahahahaaaaaaa... *Cough cough* on with the story....  
  
(A/n) Thanks for reviewing, for those of you who did. Thanks for making it constructive without being mean and pointing out my faults. Plus could someone tell me about formatting, like how to do italics, and spacing out the paragraphs so it isn't so difficult to read and so ugly. Thanks, violet xx  
  
Another a/n: until I find out how to do italics, all thoughts shall be placed in *asterisks*  
  
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Chapter 2: untitled. How ironic.  
  
Isabel sat, slumped against the tavern wall, staring gloomily out of the window onto the rain-soaked south-city Caynn backstreet.  
*Why is it, that of all the inns in the whole city I could walk into, I had to choose the bloody rogue capital of Caynn? * She thought gloomily. *And where, is the landlord around here? *  
As Isabel was thinking this, a loud crash sounded above the din. A fight had broken out, between two very drunken-looking people, two men. Knives appeared in one of the men's hands, and someone rushed in to break it up.  
"Take it outside, Sam." A voice called, and surprisingly, the two men both obeyed, still continuing to give each other deathstares.  
Isabel watched this with dull interest, impressed in an understated, Isabel sort of way, and returned her head to her arm, which was resting on the windowsill, and returned her gaze to the rain, and her mind to her gloomy thoughts. After about 10 minutes, Isabel's neck was cramping so she lifted her head. Lifting her arms up above her head to stretch them, her silver bracelet pinged off. Isabel felt the catch swing open, but didn't see where it fell. She started looking around frantically, her heart thumping. What if she had lost it? And worse, what if some thief took it? Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw a flash of silver on the floor near a wall, resting on someone's boot. The shoes were the popular style for rogue women, calf high, flat-heeled, black and made of suede, Isabel saw they held more than one knife each. Looking at the person, Isabel saw the woman was actually a girl of about her own age, average height, and wore an expensive-looking long black coat, and was huddled, leaning against the wall, evidently sulking. Her face was long and pale, and her eyes were heavily lined in black.  
She would have looked quite plain, at least going by her features, if it were not for her hair. Ash-blonde in colour, it fell freely down past her shoulders in tight, corkscrew curls, each separate and each a perfect spiral. Feeling the impact on her foot, she looked down and saw Isabel's bracelet. She picked it up, and twirled it round long fingers. Noticing Isabel's nervous stare, She said: "Yours?" Isabel couldn't believe her luck. She nodded dumbfounded. This girl was obviously a thief, but she hadn't taken the silver, which was probably worth a lot. The thief girl walked over to Isabel, whose mouth was probably drooping by now, and dropped it in front of her. "You look like you lost, love. Or very, very annoyed." She said, in a common accent. Her voice was soft and husky, and showed straight, white teeth. "Err, well, I was kind of looking for the landlord. I need a place to stay... for a while."  
  
"Oh, then you'll be lookin' for Carys."  
  
"Carys?" Isabel asked, suspiciously.  
  
"Yeah, you'll have a tough time findin' her here." The girl gestured into the din.  
  
Isabel laughed. "Yeah, I s'pose. You know her?"  
  
"I live here." Came the cool reply. "Sometimes I wish I didn't. Likes to be paid on time, our Carys...."  
  
"She charges a lot?" Isabel wanted to know.  
  
"Well no—but my kind of work.. You see, it's not a regular pay, and If one month I don't make enough..."  
  
"You're a thief." Isabel said flatly.  
  
"Ye come strollin' into the Caynn rogue headquarters, you expect us to be thieves, don't you?" she inspected her nails. "Yes, I am a thief, that's not a problem is it? "  
  
"-No." Isabel said, slowly. "It's just... I'm an orphan, you see, and I was thrown out of my home. I need somewhere to stay... and work...its past 10pm, and now I gotta find another place to go... it's pouring out there..."  
  
"What's your name?" came the suspicious reply. "I-Isabel. Isabel Baker."  
  
"Meg. Welcome to The Green Dragon." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------- Yeah, I know, short.... But there was too much dialogue in there anyways, so I didn't want to go on...  
  
So now we have a little situation...  
  
You, me and the little purple button that says...  
  
REVIEW!!!!!! 


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